


less experienced travelers

by onfims



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, sneezing fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onfims/pseuds/onfims
Summary: a wizard and a dragon who are boyfriends are on the run from the royal guard, which is hard enough without adding a rainstorm and a cold. a very shameless sneeze fetish fic.secret santa gift for my boy lurks!! i hope you like it >:3 merry xmas





	less experienced travelers

The road between Beechfield and Graylea was not long. A robust traveler with a healthy mount could make it in one day. With strong legs, two days on foot. The path itself was well trod after many years, and wide enough for a person and their cart to walk side by side. It wound through flat farmland for the most part, with fields on either side for miles and miles, before passing into a half-tame forest. Only a mile or two after exiting the trees, one would be able to see the rooftops of Graylea ahead, chimneys smoking and oil lamps burning, and the Gray Lake shimmering beyond that. It was a trip made by many again and again each year, and for those regulars, the journey was easy.

 

For those less experienced travelers, however, it might not be quite so effortless. Especially on a night like tonight, when the moon and stars were hidden behind black clouds. Cold, fat raindrops splattered down and wind shook the treetops. In the absence of light they were black masses, thrashing and howling. Not even the forested portion of the road could offer adequate cover in weather like this. Instead, rain collected in the leaves and then was blown down by the gale, pouring through the branches like water from a spigot. The dirt road had become mud in all the rain, churned up under feet, hooves, and wooden wheels.

 

Boot landing with a splash that he instantly regretted, Apollinaire found himself struggling to pull that boot free once more. Long leg fighting against the mud, he eventually triumphed, wincing at the sucking noise as the sludge clung to his boot. The leather had to be ruined now. After all the trouble he’d gone to, to steal such nice boots. In the middle of his mourning, freezing cold water splashed onto Apollinaire’s hat and ran off its wide brim. However, no amount of cover was enough for his most prominent feature; the long nose that stuck out well beyond the reach of any hat brim or turned up collar. Instead, the water splashed directly onto the tip, where it was irritably brushed away.

 

Every now and then, he spared a glance at his traveling companion, mostly to avoid bumping into them. To his left, a dragon was lumbering on all fours. If it had stood on two legs, its head and neck would be sticking through the canopy. As it was, the curved horns were already brushing and catching against lower hanging branches. To guard against all the water being knocked loose, the dragon had both huge leathery wings curved up and over their head, scales remaining perfectly dry underneath. What’s more, it’s four legged stance and wide, webbed feet made traversing the muddy road almost a nonissue. As Apollinaire struggled again to free a foot from the ground, he gave his companion a look that went unnoticed. He could see the dragon’s gait swinging wider with each cycle, getting closer and closer to him. He worked harder to pull his foot out; he could feel his boot coming off. Just as he was about to yell a warning, that wide flank slammed into him and Apollinaire went sprawling off the side of the path and splashing down into the mud. Only when he surfaced with a squawk did the dragon finally turn to look.

 

“Telesphore! Watch where you’re going, _please_!” Attempting to get to his feet, Apollinaire slipped and fell again in a wild splay of long arms and legs.

 

The dragon, Telesphore, bounded over, face awash with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, ‘Pol,” they winced, helping to right Apollinaire with one scaly paw. He dripped pathetically, covered in mud. Dextrous claws and plush finger pads fussed over him, plucking at his pointy hat and wringing out wet, muddy clothes. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Sorry I shouted.” Apollinaire gently nudged the claws away, but not before receiving a dragon-sized smooch on the cheek. He gave a few hard blinks, posture stiffening; there was a dull pop as air pressure changed, and he was standing there in completely clean, mostly dry robes. Then, a few more blinks, hazy now, sinking eyelids coinciding with hitching breaths, long sloping nose twitching. He gathered a handful of voluminous cloak, bringing it to his face, mouth opening in a gasp and nostrils flaring for the final crescendo. “Hah-- _HAHH_ \--AE **’** _ **NGK**_ _KSCH_ ’EEUUHH!” A terribly stifled sneeze, even with his entire hand pinching his nose shut. His hand fell along with the cloak, head tipping back and shooting forward to release the next sneeze uncovered - in rain like this, it hardly mattered. “Hah’ _EEI_ _ **ISSHHHH**_ ’eeuuh!” They were always impossible to repress. He wasn’t even sure why he tried.

 

Sniffling and sniffling in vain attempts to manage what those sneezes had produced, Apollinaire pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket. When he finally looked up from a relieving noseblow, he saw Telesphore giving him a look of pointed concern.

 

“What?” Apollinaire asked, self consciously dabbing at his nostrils some more.

 

“You keep doing that…” Telesphore squinted suspiciously, long neck craning back over one shoulder as they moved back onto the road.

 

“Have I? I didn’t notice. Just the spell’s fault, I’m sure.” Fumbling the handkerchief back into its pocket, Apollinaire headed off down the path, stepping quickly. Every footfall squelched.

 

Telesphore followed, rolling their eyes unseen. The two walked a bit longer in silence – aside from the rain and the wind and the splashing of the soggy road. Ahead of them, the path was pitch black, only slivers of dim light cutting intermittently through the treetops as they writhed. The only reliable light on the road surrounded the two of them in a soft white orb, enough to illuminate for a few feet on all sides, but no further; a spell that both of them were adept at using.

 

The wind picked up, and more rain lashed at them through the branches. Out of the corner of their eye, Telesphore saw Apollinaire’s head tip back, nose twitching as water dripped off it, irritating the already pink appendage even further. Any potential sneezing was cut short by two fingers pressed to his septum and upper lip. His breath released in one shuddering sigh. The silence persisted. It was only a few more minutes before Telesphore could no longer resist.

 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to make camp for the night?” they asked. Maybe the sixth time was the charm.

 

“I am sure,” Apollinaire answered, shivering despite himself. “We’re almost to Graylea. Just a few more miles.” More rain dripped from the brim of his hat onto his nose; he sniffled and shivered harder, nostrils flaring, wrinkling at the edges. Shaking his head, he tried to continue. “If we c-can get— _heh_ — _get_ \--” Apollinaire stumbled to a stop. Despite his best efforts, his eyes were squinting shut, thin chest rising and falling with uneven inhales. One hand dazedly searched for his handkerchief. He almost found it in time. “Heeh’ **ITSSCHHhii** oooh! Ahh...” Rubbing at his nose, he was finally allowed to finish his thought. “If we get there tonight, we’ll have a proper head start on that guardsman.” He spat the final word out with ultimate disdain.

 

Despite how much they wanted to argue, Telesphore found they couldn’t object to that explanation. It was true. It turns out, if you spend months skipping from town to town and scamming the inhabitants with magic before departing with most of their money, eventually, the royal guard will start paying close attention to you. They had noticed him in Beechfield, the stout man who was always nearby, who tried to dress like a commoner but couldn’t hide his brand new boots and the insignia on his hat. As soon as he’d made the connection, Apollinaire had rushed them out of town instantly, before their departure could be noticed. No time to rest, barely any time to resupply. Now, the headcold that neither of them were eager to acknowledge was only becoming more apparent.

 

They kept moving, speaking little to save their breath. Their waning energy went unmentioned, but was nonetheless apparent. As they came to the treeline, Apollinaire was leaning against Telesphore’s neck, and the dragon was resting their chin atop Apollinaire’s head. Before the cover of the forest was totally lost to them, the two stopped for a moment. When they carried on again, it was as two humans. Dragons were known in this area and it was hardly unusual to see them in town, so there was no reason to go disguised – unless you were trying to evade someone.

 

This version of Telesphore almost looked small and unassuming, especially alongside Apollinaire’s lanky silhouette. Just like in dragon form, they were round; their belly, nose, andcheeks, even the textured poof of pulled back hair bouncing behind their head. Scales that flashed every shade of green became an emerald cloak, claws became sable gloves and leather boots. Between that and Apollinaire’s blue brocade cloak and hat, the two made a striking couple. Or they would, usually, if they weren’t trudging into town damp with rain, road weary, hungry, and – though they may be loath to do so – ailing.

 

The two passed through the town gates with a nod to the half-asleep night watchman, and headed straight for an inn. It was blessedly warm inside, thanks to thick wood and brick walls, a roaring fire and a crowd of drinkers gathered in the downstairs tavern. Apollinaire got to enjoy the nicer temperature for all of ten seconds before his nose began to react. Sniffling did nothing against the shifting of congestion, and he was forced to shield his nostrils with one hand while the other grabbed for his handkerchief.

 

“Book us a room, Tel?” He asked stuffily, raising pleading eyes over the top of the handkerchief. The look he got in return was many things; concerned, and perhaps admonishing, but fond above everything else.

 

Snuffling, pinching, wiping, and ultimately blowing, Apollinaire followed helplessly along behind Telesphore as they secured a room from the innkeeper. The stairs to the top floor were dark and quiet, and without a rainstorm or a crowd around him for distraction, Apollinaire could feel the real weight of his weariness settling over him.

 

The door to their room closed and locked behind them, and he dropped back onto the bed. His hat fell off in the process, so he decided to continue undressing without getting up. Shoes pushed off and kicked away, cloak squirmed out of and thrown over the bedframe.Telesphore watched with bemusement, neatly hanging and folding all the items they removed. They took their hair down, shaking it loose. They paused a moment when Apollinaire started coughing, continuing until the fit released him with a tired groan. He flopped, limbs all spread eagled, red nosed, a little sweaty, with a forelock of frizzy auburn hair hanging over his forehead. Telesphore took in the details and felt very fond.

 

“I’ll go and get us some dinner,” they said, stepping close to rest a hand on Apollinaire’s leg. They felt surreptitiously for a heightened temperature. “You stay here. You’re the one they recognize, anyway.”

 

“Thank you.” Apollinaire was rubbing at his nose with both hands, making his voice even more pitifully nasal. His eyelids were heavy and his mouth hung slightly open in congested misery. He gave a long sniffle that went nowhere, and picked up the handkerchief from where it lay defeated on his chest. Even imbued with a self-cleaning spell, it was looking rather sad. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly looking and sounding so pitiful Telesphore wanted to grab him and hold him. “This cold is just so i _hh—so—ihiihh!_ ” Apollinaire’s face crumpled with desperation just before hiding behind his handkerchief again. “Hiehh’ _SSCHHEEUUUH_! Ohh...hh’hah! **HA** **A** **PT** _S_ _S_ _SC_ _H_ _HOOO_ _U_ _HH_! EIH’ **GSSSH** HIIUUUH!” The fit launched him upward into a sitting position, bent over his lap.

 

His loud sneeze was enough to reverberate around their small room, vocal and wet, raising in pitch with relief toward the end. “It’s so inconvenient,” Apollinaire managed to finish, all of his consonants now firmly flattened. He looked worn out, slouching limply, hair an even bigger mess after all the sneezing. Tutting, Telesphore sat on the bed, wrapping an arm around Apollinaire’s shoulders to pull him close.

 

“Shh, there’s nothing to be apologizing for,” they murmured. With a sudden thought, they dug in a pocket for their own handkerchief and handed it over. “Here. Just in case.” They kissed Apollinaire’s forehead, the tense point between his eyebrows, his pinkened cheek, and then his lips.

 

“Hey,” Apollinaire weakly squirmed in halfhearted protest. “What if you catch this?” He pulled back just far enough to keep his nose from bumping Telesphore’s face.

 

“Please,” Telesphore stood with a scoff. “I’m a dragon. I think I can withstand a little cold. Now, you stay here,” they gave a stern look that was only half serious, “and I’ll go find us some dinner.” Before they left, they bent by the small fireplace and blew softly, conjuring a crackling fire that would heat the room.

 

Descending the staircase back into the noise and the heat of the tavern, Telesphore inhaled a deep breath and immediately realized two things. One, they were making a delicious smelling stew back in the kitchen. Two, it wasn’t just Apollinaire’s nose that had been affected by the change in temperature. When they first walked in, they thought the reaction was temporary, easy to will away. Now it was back with a vengeance. Telesphore scrubbed at the broad, round tip of their nose, sniffling and sniffling. The lingering itch was gone quickly, clearly just a result of the warm room and nothing else. Elbowing through the crowd, they made their way up to the bar and got in an order for two bowls of soup.

 

Waiting for soup provided the perfect opportunity to survey the people around them. They scanned the crowd, looking for any familiar faces, anyone that might recognize Apollinaire from a previous town. There were the locals, with broad backs and rough skin from working at the docks or out on the water, hauling full nets. The traveling merchants, looking comfortable and bored on their long tours from town to town. The would be adventurers, looking hungry, hands lingering near sheathed weapons. Telesphore took note of those whose eyes lingered too long or darted too quickly. Luckily there wasn’t much of that going on in here tonight. People were drinking, talking, laughing, enjoying the company and thinking of nothing five feet beyond their faces.

 

Taking all of this in was so distracting that Telesphore didn’t notice the soup was ready until the barkeep was tapping them on the shoulder. It was a beautiful spread; two deep wooden bowls full of a dark broth, noodles, carrot, green onion, strips of beef, and a cooked egg on top, with grilled, buttery flatbread on the side. The scented steam surrounded them in a warm cloud; something that would be pleasant under normal circumstances, but instead made that itch in their nose come back with a vengeance.

 

Barely managing to stammer out a, “th _hahh_ thank y-you,” Telesphore left the bowls on the bar and quickly turned their back. They could feel their nose running, only making the tickle worse. Breath hitching, they cupped both hands over their nose and mouth, trying to muffle their audible gasps.

 

“Hahh—heih—HIHH— _TSHHISSHH_ ’OOOH!”

 

Sneezing while in a different form was always frustrating. It was highly unsatisfying to sneeze with a nose that was so much smaller than your usual one. Telesphore hoped that would be the only one of the night. Doing that too many times in a row without a chance to change back into a dragon was not something they wanted to deal with. With a sigh, Telesphore picked up the tray of soup and headed for the staircase. And then stopped dead in their tracks.

 

There, taking a seat at a table just a yard away, was a familiar looking stout man. His brand new boots were a little worse for wear, but the guardsman was unmistakable. Before their stare could be noticed, Telesphore forced their body to keep walking until they reached the staircase. Lingering on the landing for a second, they frantically went over their options. They considered not telling Apollinaire and hoping the two of them remained unseen, or confronting the guard on their own. The one thing they knew for sure was that skipping town again tonight was not an option.

 

Before Telesphore could continue up the stairs, the tickle they thought had disappeared made its resurgence. Round nostrils flaring, they scrunched up their nose, trying to hold back the feeling with both hands already occupied. It was no use. The sneeze built quickly, making them bounce with tight gasps.

 

“Hih! Hih! HEH! Hehp’ **NNGG** ’ssshhieeh!” A last ditch attempt at stifling proved disastrous, making the whole thing a lot messier than it needed to be. Snuffling, trying to rub their nose against one shoulder, they hurried up the stairs. Hooking the door open with a few spare fingers, Telesphore entered to find Apollinaire sprawled where they’d left him, asleep and snoring with his mouth open. As quietly as possible, they closed the door and set the bowls on their small table.

 

Apparently it wasn’t quietly enough; when they turned around it was to see Apollinaire groggily sitting up. His eyes focused immediately on the bowls.

 

“Ooh,” he sniffled, “soup?” Then, with a massive inhale, he leaned aside and sneezed. “HAAHH—! AEHH _ **SSSCHHHEEEWW**_! Ohh...” he recovered with a sigh.

 

Apparently the sight was too much for Telesphore’s own nose, or maybe it was resentful about not being allowed a full sneeze on the staircase. Either way, before they could think, they found themselves gasping and pitching forward with an answering, “Heh’I **PTSS** SSHH’ _OOH!_ ”

 

Gawping silently at that unexpected response, Apollinaire apparently became awake enough to notice the sniffly state Telesphore was in. “I knew it!” He said, pointing. “I knew I heard you blowing your nose back there on the road.” For all his concern earlier, he was rather triumphant now. “Wait a second,” he handed over the loaned handkerchief, “you might need this back.”

 

Telesphore sighed, flustered, but took it nonetheless. “Well. We knew it was inevitable, anyway,” they said. There was no use in arguing now. There were bigger things to worry about. They sat at the table and nudged Apollinaire’s bowl toward him in a less than subtle hint. “Eat while it’s still hot.” They chewed their lower lip for a moment, and then added, “I need to tell you something.”

 

“Hm?” Apollinaire spoke with his mouth half full, having already torn into the bread. “What is it?”

 

Telesphore took a deep breath. “I saw the guardsman in the tavern downstairs.”

 

Apollinaire almost aspirated the spoonful of broth he was slurping. “What?!” He coughed. “Here?!”

 

“He is. But he didn’t see me. Even if he had, he wouldn’t recognize me,” Telesphore tried to reassure them both. They tasted the soup and found it perfect, savory and spicy, the warmth soothing their throat. It was a nice distraction, if temporary. “We just need to lay low and maybe he’ll pass us by...”

 

Groaning, Apollinaire held his head in his hands – though one hand or the other kept dipping down for more spoonfuls of soup. “I can’t believe this. We traveled all night for nothing.”

 

“Hardly! If we hadn’t come here we’d be in court right now. Or in chains, more like,” Telesphore said, and then immediately regretted even mentioning such a dark possibility aloud. The royal jails were kind to no one, let alone two scammers getting by on shoddy magic alone.

 

“You’re right,” Apollinaire sighed. He ran his hand through sweaty hair, as if it couldn’t become any more frizzy. “We just need to—“

 

Any plan he might have been about to propose was cut short by a knock at the door. It rang out in the suddenly dead quiet room, where Telesphore and Apollinaire stared wide eyed at each other. Without a word, Apollinaire ran and hid, prostrating himself on the floor between the wall and the bed. There was another knock and he flinched. Taking a deep breath, Telesphore went to answer the door.

 

The guard stood in the hall outside their door. Up close he had a strong jaw and dark eyes. He tried to arrange his posture into something nonthreatening. “Hello,” the guard said, speaking softly, mindful of the public hallway, “sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” He flashed a badge glowing with magical authentification. “It’s a royal guard matter.”

 

“Of course,” Telesphore managed to say past the giddy nerves in their chest. They tried to arrange themselves nonchalantly in the doorway, while also blocking the view into the room. “What happened? Should I be worried?” They leaned in a bit closer, coily hair falling over one shoulder.

 

“No, no,” the guard answered. He chuckled and waved a reassuring hand before his serious expression clanged back into place. “Not yet, anyway. Just looking for a couple of suspicious characters. They would be quite noticable; a tall fellow with red hair and maybe the longest nose you’ve ever seen. He’s got a big dragon with him as well, with green scales and a pair of long black horns.” He made gestures in the air around him to demonstrate each prominent feature he described. “Would you know anything about these individuals? Seen them around town at all?”

 

It was hard not to laugh, hearing such a detached description of the two of them. Telesphore lingered, pretending to think. “Hmmm. No, I can’t say that I do,” they eventually answered. “I think I would notice if I...i-if...” their voice faltered and trailed off as their nose twitched, the nascent cold making itself known once more. A hand flew up to press against their nose, but it was too late. “Iihh! HIEH’ **IH** _ **SSSCH**_ ’oooh!”

 

It was a large, forceful sneeze to be sure, but still it didn’t seem big enough to power the small gale that suddenly swept through the hallway, surprising both of them. Telesphore suppressed a frustrated sigh. Too many sneezes while inhabiting the wrong form, and magic would start to leak out like this. They felt panic brewing, and wondered how they could end this conversation as quickly as possible. Then, they looked up and caught sight of the nervous look on the guardsman’s face, and they had an idea.

 

“Is that...are you alright?” The guardsman asked. He squinted, trying very hard to see past Telesphore into the room.

 

If he could have, somehow, looked into the room and through the bed, he would have witnessed Apollinaire locked in a struggle. As it turns out, a dusty floor is a bad place for someone with a cold to hide, especially if that someone already has a sensitive nose. He could no longer help the hitched gasps coming from his chest; it was all he could do to keep them as quiet as possible. The back of one hand was pressed desperately against his nostrils, and he could feel them twitch and flare with each involuntary breath he took. He could also feel the terrible mess that was leaking over the edge of his hand. There was nothing he could do. He was frozen in place, unable to even see, eyes squeezing shut and leaking itchy tears.

 

Still doing their best to block the doorway and distract the guard, Telesphore was none the wiser.

 

“I’m fine,” they answered the concerned question as flippantly as possible. “Just a cold.” They sniffled, rubbing one finger under their nose, partly for their own benefit, but mostly for the guard’s. “Sometimes my magic goes a little out of control when I sneeze, I admit. Part of being a wizard, I gue _hh-heh! —_ heh’TISSSHHHI _IOOOUH_!” This time, the wind that filled the hallway was stronger, accompanied by shards of frost that spat into being like bacon grease.

 

Behind the bed, Apollinaire was holding on for dear life. Hearing Telesphore sneeze only made his nose incredibly jealous. He grabbed for a handful of bedspread and brought it to his face with a shaking hand, knowing it would hardly do anything.

 

In the hallway, the guardsman backed away a step, looking wary. “When did you get into town this evening?”

 

Giving themselves a bit of time to think with a ponderous sniffle, Telesphore finally answered, “ah, I got in at sunset, but only checked in here perhaps a half hour ago, m-maybe?” They bent forward with a mostly exaggerated coughing fit, nearly crowding into the guard’s personal space. “Sorry,” they recovered with more sniffling. “ I really wish I could tell you more, but I have...I haven’t...oh, I ha-have to sneeze again...” This time, as Telesphore built up, they let eddies of magic spill down the hallway, ruffling the guard’s hair, untying his bootlaces. They let their breath hitch for effect at first, nose twitching – but they could feel that control slipping away.

 

The guard flinched at the wind, eyes darting, backing up a few more steps. “I guess I’ll leave you alone, then,” he said, eyeing Telesphore up and down. “Take care.”

 

Watching him go, Telesphore nodded hazily, looking for all the world like they were about to thank him as the impending sneeze took hold. They didn’t need to fake the shuddering breaths, the finger under their nose, the flaring nostrils. It was all much too real. They could feel the transformation spell fraying around them, their human form coming loose. Making sure that the guard was really leaving, watching him through teary eyes, Telesphore backed into the room and shut the door, head tipping back to let out the next sneeze.

 

“ HEH’ **IIIHSSH** HIIEEWW!”

 

“HHH’ **MMPFF** **F** **TS** _ **SHH**_ _ **UUE**_ _ **HH**_!”

 

Telesphore was a bit startled, but not surprised, to hear Apollinaire’s sneeze answering their own from behind the bed. Quilt still pressed to his face, he popped up, bleary eyed and panting.

 

“Did...did he go?” Apollinaire asked, muffled.

 

Telesphore nodded, still breathless with the need to sneeze. They could feel the air around them getting tighter. “S _ahh_ sorry,” they gasped, “I n _uh_ need to—“ there might have been more said, but it was cut off as they made a broad gesture with one hand, spreading the clear barrier of a silencing spell. Within the bubble, Apollinaire saw them suddenly grow, one moment a human and the next a dragon, barely fitting inside the spell. Telesphore’s head reared back, their snout trembling, nostrils wide and round. Their chest heaved, bands of scales stretching. And then, they sneezed.

 

From where Apollinaire stood, it was silent. Over the years, however, he had heard the sound enough times to know what a feat it was for it to be suppressed by the silencing spell. Telesphore’s sneeze was just as desperate and breathy in dragon form as it was in human form, only much more so. It became deep and rough and incredibly forceful. In Apollinaire’s opinion, it was magnificent.

 

They dropped the spell while they were still letting out the “--ooohh,” nose pointed at the ground. Eyes remaining shut, Telesphore slumped onto their belly, worn out. They filled the whole room like this, even with limbs folded beneath them. It was a snug fit but it would work. Their snout quivered with a sniffle and they looked over at Apollinaire where he was still kneeling behind the bed. The two shared a few seconds of pitiful staring before they started to laugh. This quickly broke down into coughing for both of them, and Apollinaire had no choce but to blow his nose on the quilt. He stripped the blanket from the bed, climbing up over the mattress and onto the floor to kneel by Telesphore’s head. He dabbed gently at their nose with one corner of the quilt until they were satisfied.

 

Telesphore sighed, long head nestling against Apollinaire. In return, Apollinaire laid against them, hand stroking over warm scales. It was a little while before either one of them said anything.

 

“That was close,” Apollinaire sighed.

 

“Mm,” Telesphore hummed in agreement. “Let’s never leave this room again.”

 

“We might need to, if we want a blanket we can actually use.”

 

“Ugh. Just do a cleaning spell on it.”

 

“I’m too tired.” Telesphore flopped their head and neck to one side in a show of weariness. Then they immediately perked up to look across the room. “Oh! The soup!” With too much grace for something so large in a small space, they turned back toward the table and got settled. A dark blue tongue snaked out to slurp the soup. They sighed and shivered in pleasure. “It’s still warm,” they said.

 

Joining them at the table, Apollinaire found they were correct. “He might come back,” he said. “He’ll talk to everyone in the place. Someone else will say something. No way no one noticed us.”

 

“True, we are a dashing couple.” Telesphore showed their sharp teeth in a grin. “It’s true, he may well find us again. Until then, we’ll be able to rest and prepare.” Half of their soup disappeared in another slurp. “We won’t be sneezing our heads off next time we see him, that’s for sure.”

 

Apollinaire laughed, crows feet creasing. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

 

They finished the meal, talking about other things, until the yawns were more frequent than words. Telesphore curled up on the rug and Apollinaire nestled in the middle of them, wrapped in their tail. They slept in front of the crackling fire, almost able to forget the storm outside, and the road that waited for them. No matter what might happen, they would have each other.


End file.
